


Need

by Itrustyoutokillme



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Angst, F/M, no fluff here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 21:43:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11090511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itrustyoutokillme/pseuds/Itrustyoutokillme
Summary: Sara and Michael discover something whilst on the run together.   Set during season 2 but non canon.





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> Another co-wrote with Jess that i can comfortably say is okay as a one-shot, even if we meant it to be in a series somewhere.

Michael's eyes flickered between the road before him and Sara's profile as she stared out of the window across never ending fields of tall, yellow wheat. They had somehow ended up in the remotest part of America; out where the local sheriff was also the local bar keep, and the day officially began at noon. The only part of modern civilisation to grace them was the road, although Michael thought it had seen better days. Especially when the slightly worn tyres on their illegally borrowed Wrangler collided with a pothole. "Are you okay? You're very quiet." Michael noted, glancing at Sara again.

"Do you have to hit so many potholes?" Sara murmured, keeping her gaze off of Michael. She didn't want to talk about him, she didn't want to think about it. She was feeling sick to her stomach. Too much was going on. "You're going to make me throw up."

"I'm sorry," Michael said sincerely letting his eyes linger on her figure, his voice barely audible above the drone of the tyres across the road. Sara had, much to his mind's unsettling, become distant, cold and shuddered when he touched her. She no longer leant into his warmed palm when he caressed her cheek, of wanted anything more than a quick peck on the lips. "Do you think it was something you ate?" he pushed gently, vainly needing to fix her time and time again.

"No, I don't think it was something I ate," Sara snapped. She undid her seatbelt and leaned forward, pressing one hand against the dashboard, and leaning her head on her knees. She couldn't voice her fears. "Michael, I need you to pull over right now."

“What? Why?” Michael frowned, looking back to the road just in time to avoid another pothole. “We’ve got a lot of ground…” he began but Sara’s words bit out at him again.

"Michael!" Sara snapped, looking over in his direction. She sat up and pressed a hand to her stomach. "Unless you want me to throw up in this car, pull over now!"

"Okay, okay," Michael quickly said, his face etched with worry. His foot pressed onto the brake a little harder than he would of liked and the car rocked sideways when the tyres left the unfinished edge of the road and plundered into the dry, dusty dirt. The car skidded slightly, lurching them both forward before stopping completely with a squeak of the brakes. "Sara?" Michael turned to her, tiny beads of perspiration littering his brow where the air conditioning had stopped.

Sara didn't responded, instead just opened the door and stumbled out of the car, falling to her knees several feet away. As soon as the fresh hair hit her, she didn't feel quite as sick anymore. Sitting in the dirt, breathing heavily, she fought back tears.

Michael unclipped his seat belt and wasted no time shuffling his body across the front sheets and stepping from the truck. His heart raced as he stumbled after Sara, landing awkwardly on his knees beside her but leaning in front of her. He laid a hand to her shoulder tentatively and tried to catch her gaze. "Hey..." he said smoothly noticing her trembling in the baking hot sun.

Sara sighed and finally looked up at him, brushing her short hair out of her face, and tucking it behind her ears. She took a deep breath and glanced away for several seconds before looking back to him. "I messed up."

Michael's eyes travelled to her arms, assuming the worst, but her sweater covered her elbows, bent awkwardly on her knees. Sara hadn't been alone for days, in fact the longest time she had spent alone was on the train heading for Chicago. But even then one of the first proclamations to leave her mouth was that she wasn't using. Michael looked confused and swivelled his body so he was knelt in front of her. "You haven't messed up, Sara," He said sympathetically.

"Yes, I have," Sara murmured, leaning back on her heals. "I've messed up, you messed up. We messed up." She took another breath, and a quiet sob escaped her throat. "It's the last thing we need. I'm so sorry."

"What is?" Michael shuffled closer to her, his boots dragging against the grainy dirt. "Sara, i don't understand," Michael shook his head, trying to recollect anything that had happened that could of jeopardised the plan. Before she had a chance to answer, his head snapped up and their eyes locked, one set of watery hazel pools to shocked ocean deep blues. He couldn't say what he was thinking. It was preposterous, not impossible but the odds were highly stacked against them.

Sara saw his expression, and knew he was thinking it. And he looked scared. If Michael couldn't accept it, if Michael couldn't say it out loud, how was she supposed to? She stood, taking another deep breath, and brushing the dirt of her pants. "Michael, I'm late."

"You can't be," he blurted as everything he had thus far planned in his beautiful mind got tossed about into chaos and disorder. For a second he forgot to breathe, focused on a jagged rock where Sara's body had been slumped seconds before and then felt the weight of his own body hit the back wheel of the truck, kick starting his rapid inhalations.

"Michael?" Sara hurried over to him, and knelt in front of him. She quickly grabbed his wrist, feeling his pulse. It was racing. She raised her voice. "Michael, listen to me. You are not going to hyperventilate."

Michael's head fell back against the rusted wheel arch of the faded red truck and he shook his head sideways, trying desperately to clear his blurry vision. He swallowed hard, gulping for more air and clawing at the collar of his sweater that had suddenly restricted his windpipe. Everything that Michael Scofield was disappeared, leaving a neurotic shell of a man in its place. His legs twitched nervously in the sandy coloured dirt, shifted around with a mind of their own. Michael couldn't feel them, or Sara's hands on his skin and her voice was muffled and distant.

"Michael!" Sara snapped, taking his head in her hands and forcing him to look into her eyes. "I need you right now, okay?" She raised her voice. "I need this to be about me for a few seconds, okay? I need you!"

Michael could see her lips moving, feel her breath on his skin and the warmth of her hands through his clammy cheeks, but he couldn't hear her. Her voice was faded, until she said she needed him. Twice. Something inside Michael sparked to life and he felt the overwhelming urge to protect her. "You're pregnant?" he said with desperation, his voice laced with despair and uncertainty.

"I. . ." Sara glanced down, biting her lip. "I'm never late, Michael. Not even when I was using. It's always kind of been a reliable process." She felt a tear finally slip down her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise." Michael averted her stare when she mentioned drugs, mainly because deep down, he wished she had confessed a relapse. To say this was unexpected was a massive understatement. "But, you might not be, right?" he said eagerly, maybe a little too eagerly. He smoothed his fingers over her skin, gripping at her wrists and holding her hands to his face.

"You know what, Michael. . ." Sara pulled her hands from his grip, and shook her head as she stood up. She buried the toe of her shoe in the dirt and shook her head again, moving back towards the car. She had expected him to be just as scared as she was. . . but he looked so delighted at the prospect of it being a false alarm. She got in and slammed the door. "Let's go."

"Wait, Sara," Michael tripped over his words as much as his feet as he stumbled to after her. "I'm sorry," he breathed through the open window, leaning against the hot, cracked rubber seal of the wound down window. "You have to let me process this for a second."

Sara kept her eyes faced forward, her expression angry and hurt. "You think it's easy for me, Michael?" She cleared her throat, trying to fight back the lump that was forming. "You think I wanted this?" She turned, meeting his gaze. "But if you don't want it, it's no big deal. I hear they don't ask for ID at some of the free clinics."

"God dammit, Sara!" Michael bellowed, slamming his fist into the already dented roof of the truck before spinning in the dirt and taking a few strides away from the vehicle and flattening a hand over his freshly grown hair. Michael had led a very different life to Sara growing up. He had seen the horrors of the world, witnessed the evil in people. He had spent every waking hour of his childhood wishing he wasn't alive. "Wait," he snapped confused, turning back to her and resting a hand to his hip loosely. "You want this?"

Sara jumped when he slammed his hand down, and yelled at her. Her emotions finally boiled over, and silent sobs racked her body. She sat, shaking as he moved away, then turned back to her. He didn't want it. He didn't want her. "No, Michael. Let's just find somewhere where we can take care of it. No one else has to know."

He didn't believe her. "You do want this,” he said softly, moving back towards the car. It wasn't a question that she had to answer, it was a statement. A definitive sentence of meaning that would tell him how she really felt. Saying she loved him, even if she hadn't actually used the words in the normal order of things, had led to this situation and Michael wasn't about to disbarred her affection for both of their stupidities.

Sara pursed her lips and stared forward. She crossed her arms tightly in front of her. Another sob escaped her, this time louder. She didn't know what she wanted, she didn't know anything. Sniffling, she shook her head. "You don't want it."

Michael pulled the old chrome handle of the door and it swung open with a rusty creaking. He knelt in the shade of the door, resting his knees against the chassis of the truck and covering his mouth with his hand. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure if he should reach out and comfort her, wipe away her tears or kiss away her anguish. Michael wasn't even sure if it was what Sara wanted. He cleared his throat gently, gripping at Sara's leg with both hands and balancing on his toes. "What do you want?"

Sara sniffled, but didn't move to wipe away her tears. She coughed and shrugged, before turning to look at him. "I just want to be happy again, Michael. I want all this to go away. And. . . I don't know. I know you don't want this. I know. I don't even know what we are, Michael. But maybe I do want it."

Michael reached up and wiped away Sara's tears with his thumb, stroking her smooth tear stained skin with the back of his knuckles. "I am so sorry Sara, for everything that has happened," he began, his own voice breaking slightly with his words. "I am sorry for everything you've lost, but I am not sorry for everything you are gaining," he rested his other hand to her stomach without breaking eye contact. "I want you to be happy and if a baby means you will be, I want this too."

Sara bit on her bottom lip, and took in a quiet breath as Michael pressed his hand to her stomach. "I know it's the last thing you need, Michael. That I'm probably the last thing you need." Her face crumpled, and she looked down. "I'm so sorry."

"Hey," Michael soothed, tilting her face back to his again. "This is the last thing we need," Michael confirmed. "And I am not going to pretend I am not scared, because I am petrified," he let out a shaky laugh. "But we can do this. I have faith," Michael nodded, leaning up quickly and capturing her lips for a lingering kiss. Sara's mouth tasted like salt, tasted of her tears and her lips quivered against his. "And you are the only thing I need right now," he breathed, resting his forehead against hers.

Sara brought her hands up to his face, and nodded slowly. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly, forming into the ghost of a smile. "We don't have to decide anything right now, Michael. I'm not even sure I'd know how to be a. . ." Her words caught in her throat, and she couldn't push out the word Mom. "I don't know if I'd be any good at it."

Michael perched on the edge of the bench seat and pulled Sara to him, crushing her to his chest and kissing the top of her dark brown locks. "If you can take care of me, you can take care of a baby," he smiled, heaving a sigh of relief. "You'll be a great mom."

Sara pressed her face into his chest, closing her eyes and inhaling his scent. She snaked an arm around his waist, and sighed, feeling much more content. "Michael, I love you."

It was the first time Sara had said the combination of words properly. They had danced around the notion for a few days, teasing and playfully using more discreet terminology. Michael's body reacted instantly, tingling from his head to the pit of his gut and he planted another breathy kiss to the top of her head. "I love you too," he whispered, resting his cheek to her skull and holding her tightly, never wanting to let her go.

The words made a rush of fresh tears flood Sara's eyes, and she gripped tighter to the shirt. She wanted nothing more than to press herself against him, peel of his clothes and push him into the backseat. Instead, she cleared her throat, and whispered. "We should probably go?"

Sara's words shook Michael from his miniature daydream and he reluctantly let her fall from his embrace. "Yeah, we should, before Linc and..." he paused, hating the feel of his name on his tongue. "...Kellerman..." he bit out angrily as he found his feet. "...beat us there," he finished, pushing her door closed and walking around the heated horizon and slipping into the drivers seat.

Sara nodded slowly, flinching only slightly when Michael mentioned Kellerman's name. As Michael sat down in the car, Sara slid across the bench seat towards him. Half-teasing, she slid her hand over his thigh. "You sure we need to head out now?"

Michael's hands froze on the key in the ignition and his eyes dropped to his thigh and Sara's gentle touch that felt so real through his corduroy. "This is hormones, right?" he quirked an eyebrow at her, sliding her a sly glance quickly with a slight turn of his head.

Sara smirked, returning his glance. She slid her hand up slightly higher, and scooted further over, brushing her lips across his neck. Suddenly, she felt more free. "Maybe it's just how incredibly sexy you are?"

"So it is hormones," Michael grinned with a laugh.

Sara laughed quietly, and moved back to her side of the seat. "Alright, if you don't want me."

"Oh I want you," Michael practically growled. "And I’ll have you...at the next motel," he teased, turning the key in the ignition.

It seemed like much longer, but less than three hours later, Sara was sitting on a bed, inside a decent hotel room, watching Michael as he stared out the window. She had headed straight to her and Michael's room, and Michael had disappeared into the room where Lincoln was 'keeping an eye on' Paul Kellerman. She bounced on the bed a little, taking in Michael's serious expression, "What are you thinking?"

Michael gave her a quick glance before returning his gaze back out of the window. The sun had begun to set, casting the empty horizon into the seedy shadows of the world. "About us," he turned to her with a solemn expression. "About the baby," he turned to face the window once more, staring at his reflection in the glass more than the world beyond it.

Sara sighed and stood up, making her way slowly over to the window. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and rested her chin on his shoulder, trying to see what he was looking at. She turned her head and pressed her lips to his neck, "What about us and the baby?"

Michael pulled his hands from his pockets and blanketed Sara's around his waist. He titled his head back slightly and rested it against Sara's. "Sara, If we get caught, If I get caught..." he turned around to her and squeezed her tiny hands in his massive paws. "...I will go back to prison," he said adamantly. "And I don't want you to raise a child, my child, on you're own. It's not right, we've been selfish. We've been too caught up in ourselves we neglected to process consequences." Michael really didn't sound like he made sense to himself. Was he telling he didn't want the baby? Was he telling her he did, but it would be hard? "I don't know," he sighed, answering his mind and burying his face in his hands.

"You're not going to get caught," Sara told him firmly. She pressed her face into his shoulder, kissing it softly. "Are you scared because you don't want this, Michael? Or are you scared because you do? I know it's going to be hard, but. . ." Sara paused, trailing off and releasing her grip on him a little. "You're the one who's always telling me to have faith. Hope. Optimism."

"I'm just scared," Michael whispered. "Because it's a situation I cannot control, where so many factors are against my will," he stepped from her embrace, stalking his way towards the bed and perching on the edge heavily. The bed sheets were at least a little nicer then Gila. "Faith is useless here, it really is," he laughed lightly, letting his body fall back onto the bed and closing his eyes. "I know I said I wanted this, but I don't know how to make everything okay so that it is just me and you."

Sara watched him, trying to absorb what he was saying. He had made it pretty obvious, he didn't want the baby. And she knew she couldn’t do it without him. Biting on her bottom lip, she glanced to the carpet and nodded. "Yeah, you're right. We shouldn't have this baby. I just uh. . ." She hurried over to the bathroom. "I just need a minute." Not looking back at him, she quickly shut the door and locked it behind her.

Michael bolted upright and stared at the closed door. Sara's sobs echoed in the small bathroom, making them amplify and vibrate into the room. Michael gave her a minute, he had timed it exactly, before gently tapping on the dark brown door and calling her name. "Sara?" he breathed softly against the door, his breath touching his hand. "Sara, you know it's not safe for us to have a baby right now...but we will, when all of this is over." His words were met with silence and his tongue darted out to moisten his lips. "We don't even know for sure if..." he paused, wishing she would open the door. "...we haven't taken a test."

Sara perched on the edge of the bathtub, trying to control her crying. It didn't matter if she hadn't taken a test, it didn't matter what he said. She knew. She remained quiet, refusing to talk or leave the bathroom until she had gotten control of herself. Finally, her sobs dwindled, and she stood, hastily wiping at her eyes with her shirt sleeve. Yanking the bathroom door open, she moved back towards the bed. Turning to look at Michael, she spat our the words, "Right, Michael. I mean, God, we're on the run. There are people trying to kill us. I'm going to have to go to jail too! And what would your wife think?"

"Don't play the wife card with me Sara. There are a lot of things I did to get my brother out of there that I am not proud of. Marrying Nika was one of them," he snapped back, his jaw twitching and flexing as he tried to keep his voice calm. "But don't you dare sit there and patronise me for my wrongs, when you know damn well you are not perfect."

"Did I ever claim to be perfect?" Sara snapped, looking at him and arching an eyebrow. "No. You're the one who put me on this pedestal from day one! Dr. Tancredi wants to make a difference. Dr. Tancredi cares about people. All she wants to do is help to make things right. Of course she'd be so stupid to fall for my charm. Of course she'd leave that door open if I played her just enough, then asked. That's how it was, right Michael?" Her breathing was becoming laboured. "Didn't count on me being a junkie? Didn't count on needing me a-fucking-gain. Sure as hell didn't count on knocking me up."

"It was never like that!" Michael roared, stepping closer to her with clenched fists. "I didn't count on a lot of things!" he shouted, slurping saliva back into his mouth before it sprayed out into the room. He made a sound in his throat that sounded primal and disturbing but spinning on his heel and releasing all of his anger into the wall. His fist left a ragged edged dent in the cheap plaster but he didn't register pain before turning back to her and cutting the air with his flat palm. "I didn't fucking count on falling in love with you!"

"Well, too fucking bad for you I'm just so irresistible then, right?" Sara snapped, feeling the tears well up again. His anger didn't scare her, hers was too strong for that. She stood from the bed, fumbling for her purse. She couldn't remember where she had kicked her shoes off. "I'll just go. I'll just go and you can not worry about it anymore. It's like it never happened, okay? I'll take care of it. It'll be like we never happened."

"No. No, you don't get to walk away from this," Michael growled, moving to cover the doorframe with his massive bulk. "You don't get to pretend we never happened, because guess what Sara, we did." Michael pulled his hand back to himself, diverting his anger away from her. He covered his mouth, inhaling deeply and letting his eyes wander around the room. "Fucking hell, Sara...why did you have to be like this every time I mention the baby. Is this not proof enough that it shouldn't be?"

"You have already taken everything away from me, Michael!" In a swift motion, Sara swung back and hit him across the chest with her purse. She dropped it to the ground, and swung at him again, this time connected with her fist. "How long until I get you taken away from me? How long until I have literally nothing left?"

Michael's face stung from her assault and his arm sprang up to catch her wrist in his hand. "Don't hit me," he breathed through gritted teeth. His face was turned from her and everything from his childhood came flashing back. Sara morphed into a full-grown man and her delicate palm became a hairy knuckled fist that sent a ten year old Michael flying across the room, bleeding and shivering on the floor. "Please," Michael gulped, turning back to her. "Don't hit me."

Sara immediately softened, seeing the look on his face. It was hurt, wounded, and completely frightened. She moved away, collapsing down onto the bed. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Michael."

Michael sighed when she twisted from his grasp and watched her move from him. He pressed his fingers to his brow, running his fingertips across his tensed forehead before stepping towards Sara again. “Me too,” he breathed, dropping down beside her on the bed and falling back against the mattress, mimicking his earlier actions. His eyes felt so heavy and they fell closed by themselves.

Sara lay back beside him, turning and wrapping her arm around him. She pressed her nose to his cheek, and repeated the words again. "I'm so, so sorry." She hesitated, and tightened her grip around him. "Michael, did someone hurt you?"

  
Michael didn't open his eyes for fear the tears would fall if he did. His throat began to burn and his chin shook with a quiver. "When my mom died, me and Linc ended up in the system, tossed from place to place and eventually we got separated." Michael took a large breath as he recalled the next year of his life. "My foster father..." he cringed at the word as it slipped from his mouth. The man was neither his father, nor had he cared for him like a son. "I just don't like to be hit," he finished, closing himself off.

"Michael. . ." Sara's voice trailed off and she found herself at a loss for words. Slowly, she rose and moved over him, straddling his waist and gently leaning her weight on him. She leaned down, brushing her lips across his neck. She sighed and pressed her lips to his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. Sitting up a little, she rubbed her nose across his. "I love you." She knew they were words that couldn't fix anything, but she hoped they at least mattered.

Michael's body relaxed when Sara sat on him, warming the coldness that had entered his body. His eyes flickered open and she was there, cradling his broken soul in her hands and telling him she loved him. Michael run his hands over Sara's thighs, over her behind and up under her shirt, flattening his hand to her back. Michael's eyes fell on Sara's face, darting between her lips and her eyes while her breath tickled at his skin. "I love you so much," Michael croaked, cupping her face in his hands and breathing a huge sigh against her skin before capturing her lips for a searing kiss.

Sara sat up, tugging on his shirt, pulling him with her. When they were in a sitting position, she made herself comfortable in his lap and kissed him again, darting her tongue out and over his bottom lip. She slid her hands under his shirt, only breaking the kiss long enough to yank his shirt up over his head. Sara ducked her head, pressing her lips to his shoulder and chest. "Michael. . ."

Michael wasted no time in pressing his lips to Sara's again, deepening the kiss while he yanked Sara's shirt over her head. His tongue invaded her mouth, devouring her mouth hungrily and tasting her now passed tears from her throat. When she was half naked, her smooth, milky skin exposed to his view, Michael smoothed his hands off her shoulders and pulled her to him, kissed and licking at her skin that prickled to life.

Sara let out a moan, her breath catching in her throat as his mouth and tongue moved along her skin. "Oh, Michael. . ." the words tumbled from her lips, and tossed her head back, closing her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck as her hips involuntarily thrust against his. "I want you."

Sara's words only excited Michael more and a growl escaped Michael's mouth, hot and damp against Sara's skin. His hand gripped at her back, holding him while he took one hard, rosy nipple in his mouth and circled it with his tongue. Michael needed this. He needed to know Sara wanted him as much as he wanted her, regardless of what faced them or where they were. Maybe they were being selfish and maybe they were too caught up in their own lust to realise what was happening, but as Michael's hands undid her pants, ripping the sides apart and sliding them down over her behind forcefully, Michael didn't care.

Sara stood, pushing Michael back down on the bed. She quickly wiggled out of her jeans, and kicked them across the room. Moving back to the bed, she knelt beside him, undoing his pants and slowly pulling the zipper down. "I want to touch you."

Michael let out a short laugh and run his hand through her hair. "I'm not going to stop you, Sara," he smiled at her. "I want you all over my skin, all the time," he confessed, leaning up to give her another scorching hot kiss.

"Are you always this. . ." Sara paused as she yanked Michael's pants off. "Are you always like this, or do I just bring out the best in you?" She leaned over him, and placed a soft kiss on his stomach.

"Everybody needs somebody, Sara," Michael said, his words catching in his throat when her lips connected with his skin like fire. "Right now, I need you."

Sara slowly slid her hand into his boxers, running her hand over his hard length. She curled her fingers around him and slowly began to stroke. "You need me. . . just for right now?"

Michael sucked in a breath when she took him in her hand and shook his head weakly. "For always," he said calmly, tilting her face to his and making sure she heard the sincerity in his words by gripping her wrist gently and stopping her stroking. "I'm sorry about earlier. I was...I was just worried," he confessed.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," Sara murmured, pressing her lips to his neck. She gently released him, and moved back on top, straddling his waist. Leaning down, she met his lips in a slow kiss. "I'm scared too. We can be scared together."

Michael took her hands in his and their fingers became entangled, holding onto each other with a white knuckled grip. He lifted one of her hands to his mouth and barely touched his lips to it. "Lets focus on doing this together first," he smirked against her ear, trailing his tongue over the sensitive skin and revelling in how she shuddered on top of him.

Sara let out a giggle, and shifted on him, letting out a soft moan. She kissed a trail along his jaw line, up to his ear. "Do you know how much I love making love to you?"

"Do you know how much I love you making love to me?" Michael groaned, his head digging backwards into the sheet and his hands brushing light trails down Sara's body and finally resting on her hips.

Sara laughed quietly at his words. She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting out a quiet moan as his hands moved down her body. They rested on her hips, and she stilled, allowing Michael to guide himself slowly into her. She let out another quiet moan, and tossed her head back. "Do you have any idea how good you are?"

"Why do you make this about me?" Michael asked playfully through a gritted smile. "You're the one riding me," he breathed, smoothing his hand down her body, over her breasts and across her stomach.

Sara laughed again, but this time it came out more breathy. She moaned again, fluttering her eyes close as she picked up speed, moving her hips against his. Pressing her hands against his chest, she whispered, "Oh, Michael. . ."

His name tumbling from Sara’s lips was enough to awaken his inner beast and the beast wanted feeding. It rose forth; darkening his expression and making his lips curl with passion. “Oh yeah, Sara…” he panted. “Don’t stop…”

Sara watched his expression darken and she let out another moan, bucking her hips even harder against his. She leaned forward, pressing her lips against his neck as she rode him. "God, you feel good."

Michael growled and dug his blunt fingertips into Sara's hips, holding her flush to his body as she moved back and forth. The friction against Sara's hypersensitive clitoris made her squeal and Michael pushed harder on her body, moving her faster on top of him. "Oh god..."  
  
"You're going to make me come," Sara mumbled, trying to keep her voice down. She pressed her lips into his neck, sucking gently at his Adam’s apple. "Michael, come with me."

"Oh yeah, say that again," Michael panted hard against her face, moving his own hips to finally join her rhythm in his chase for bliss. "Please..." he begged.

"I'm going to come." Sara met his lips in a long, messy kiss, mumbling her words against his mouth. She still didn't break this kiss as she whispered, "I want you to come with me."

Michael snaked his hand between their bodies and teased Sara's hub with talented fingers. "I'm coming, oh Sara, I’m coming...right...now..." With a few weak shallow thrusts, Michael came, emptying himself into Sara as he held his breath to prolong the feeling of oblivion. He grunted, hissing with each thrusts that left him trembling beneath her.

Sara followed Michael over the edge, her body stilling on top of his as she allowed her orgasm to wash over her. Michael made her feel better and better each time. Coming down from her high, she puffed her breath against his chest. "Wow. I needed that."

Michael held her to him and planted a soft, breathy kiss to her temple. "I think we both did," he admitted, smoothing his hand over her back lazily.

Sara smirked and rolled off of him, moving to crawl under the covers. She pulled them up to her chin and smiled sweetly at him. "Come here."

"What?" Michael smirked, rolling onto his stomach and crawling army style up the bed sheets. "You couldn't possibly..." he narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm not super woman," Sara murmured, giving him a look. She giggled and cuddled further under the blankets. "I just want you to hold me."

"I can do that," Michael smiled sweetly, lifting the edge of the covers and sliding beneath it silently. He shuffled against the coolness of the bed, sucking in a breath when the temperature change hit his body. He slid across the bed on his hip, pressing himself into Sara's back and burying his face in her neck. He planted a soft kiss to the skin there before trailing them along her shoulder. Michael's arm was draped over Sara's chest, hugging her to him harshly and gripping her tiny, delicate hands in his. "Feel better?" He whispered.

Sara let out a content sigh and snuggled closer into him, closing her eyes. She hesitated, then moved his hand, pressing it against her flat stomach. "I always feel good when you're near."

Michael let her move his hand and he splayed his fingers out over the whole silky smooth area. Michael nuzzled harder into Sara’s neck, resting his jaw on her shoulder and letting out a sigh. “Sleep,” he ordered her with a whisper. “I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised and let his own eyes close and welcome sleep.


End file.
